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There was not a moon hung in the sky that night as the friends made their way to the evening’s festivities. Blurred wavelengths of color mark the streets as they weave in and out of traffic. Like a painter gracefully presses their brush along a canvas, this is their dance. It is their silent impact. It is their passion and fervor embracing their fast past turning world.

I

was

here.

If only for a moment.

If only for thesemoments.

Plates and silverware clink amidst the roars and hushes of chatter at a local spot by the beach. The pair break through the sound and enter. They are eager for this time of relaxation and the company of friends.

It is like every cliche night in Los Angeles. Even when business is over for the day, it is still business as usual. If anything, it is the kind of night where the most business happens just as much as it is about relaxing.

We sat there and ate cake and drank a few rounds. We smiled. We laughed. Everyone was enjoying the company. Everyone was enjoying the chatter.

A drink sits lonesome by at the end of the table.

“Whose is this?”

“He’s coming to join us.”

A man in black with an apron slung around his waist approaches the table.

“It will be about 15 minutes before I am done with my shift. I have to do some paperwork. I’ll be right over.”

“Come have your drink.” the group insists.

“Not yet. I’m on the clock and I have my integrity.”

The drink glows in the moonlight and sings its own silent overture to the starless sky above them.

He finished his shift and pulled a chair over. The party was not complete for the evening. However, this is the point when it started to get more real. Every single other person on there was highly involved within a specific scene, even if their places in line were not the same. The server was the odd person out in the group.

I asked him simple questions.

Icebreakers.

I wanted to make sure he felt fully included.

“Where did you work before this job? Is this the job that you would like to have or are you an actor?”

It was very cliché. I was very… rude actually.

“I lived in Vermont.” he said.

“But what did you do there exactly?” I asked him again.

He stated to tell his story. He was trying so hard to belong to the group.

“I was working in computers.”

“But what in computers?”

The table echoed with questions pertaining to various fields.

“I was working a help desk.”

More questions as to specifics.

In a way, I felt bad. Not because of his answers. Not because But because we were so to the T about his responses yet the majority of us are entrepreneurs. Our work and dreams are similar to this man’s, even if they aren’t always the same.

He turned the discussion to the rest of the table. One by one, like an AA meeting, we all spoke about our jobs and stated our names.

Entrepreneur. PR. Consulting. Etcetera.

The flashlight came my way and I failed. As I have so many hats on currently, what I didn’t say was what I knew the most. I had spoken a lot about both but also relatively little, even if I had been verbose. Succinctly there were only two answers that should have been said.

Sometimes things shouldn’t have to be so wordy or complex. There is so much complexity in the purity. But only if you look inwardly for it and only if you listen. I have learned that being dynamic is like constantly being on stage. You have to be bold. You have to be brazen. You have to be fully aware of what you are.

You have to…

You have to…

You have to….

“I am an artist. Sometimes it’s for money. Sometimes it’s not. But it’s always with my heart- fully open and susceptible to being broken and put back together again and again in every single thing that I do.”

Because that is who I am and that’s what I am proud of. Every. Single. Day.

I’m in the midst of yet another major time out. It’s spring cleaning and with it comes… well the evaluation process of what’s working, what needs to go and what’s actually important.

I’ve noticed over time I seem to have strayed from my journalistic roots. Once upon a time, I was a game journalist. In high school, for our school newspaper, I covered everything under the sun, with primary focus in features articles. I loved it. It challenged me.

The blogging I initially started here was more for personal reflection. In some ways it was a collection of all of my thoughts- both fluid and real time that I wanted to release and share. It was part of the collection for the book I’m writing about my journey through an abusive marriage and divorce. Later it grew to my path towards getting on my feet, falling on my face, learning to find the strength to get back up again and do it all over.

It was very personal. It was harsh and real. It was also a double edged sword. Ultimately I came to some very important conclusions from it.

Friday was very significant to me. In many ways, I realized just how much I really wanted to be more careful and greedy about what I sent out into the digital space. I took a time out. A very much needed time out.

“There are some things that are meant to be legendary.” he said.

Simple, yet profound, it was a piece of commentary in a silly private conversation that resonated so strongly… reminder of things I already know but tend to forget. The easiest and hardest things seem to be that way.

I shared bits and pieces about the events that transpired on my weekend with close friends, but left few digital footprints about it. It was legendary and however selfish it may have been to keep them private, the moments were my own and the world doesn’t need them unless I chose to share them with them.

People know far too much about my love affairs. And although I’m forever thankful and happy to tell tales of my brushes with romance and heartache, perhaps part of the problem is that I am sharing these and not writing about it the way that it should be.

I’m taking to account the comments made from my peers: a cast of characters embued into the story, my readers, and the potential readership. It comes with a price. I’m weighing in.

I think it’s time you know more about the paths to the stories. I need to dedicate more time into writing my novels, my screenplays, my childrens books, and, in this realm, my journalistic roots. I’ve been doing it the way I wanted to for some time, and for those of you that have followed me through this journey, I appreciate you emphatically. It’s time to put a halt on the bullshit.

I’m sick of being crucified for putting myself so out in the open to be crucified. The relationships I have become compromised. Despite my relatively off radar lifestyle, the blips that I do share get run away with. While I encourage your imagination, there needs to be more left to your imagination.

I think in the end, the format really needs to be more evident of how I’ve changed. People haven’t taken me as seriously as I’d have liked them to because I show them too much. If people want to know my personal stories, they’re going to have to get to know me personally or read about it in one of my novels. Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? I’ve been selling myself short here.

Ironically it’s the ease of connectivity and accessibility that is really taking a toll. I want more emphasis on building ways to effectively communicate ideas, passions, goals, desires in a cohesive fashion that isn’t so much “Look at me.” How about you start inwardly and stop giving a crap about if people are watching what you do or not.

Life is about the journey, not about the destination. Share your stories with the people you hold dear. Stop being so accessible to strangers. If you’re going to put yourself out there, be careful what you write. On the digital scape, there is no undo.

My marriage was over 3 years ago, but the axe finally comes down officially tomorrow.

3 years of heartache of separation from the kids.

Of bullshit games and an inferior complex from a man who abused me both emotionally and physically.

From a man who attempted to extinguish the fire within me.

I look back at pictures in reflection. It was a long time ago but doesn’t feel like it was. It was a different life. A different world. One that I miss sometimes and others one that I’m glad is being left behind.

I thought I would always be watching from the rearview mirror… seeing little faces turn big and I wouldn’t be there.

It tugs my heart. I first heard about my daughter walking from an email sent to someone else. I wasn’t included in this family. He ran off to make his own. With another woman who couldn’t have children of her own.

Imagine finding excel spreadsheets with daycares cross country with your children’s names. Of threats before work to take your children. Of a man you gave everything up for reminding you your place in line.

Money.

I hate to love money.

“Why is divorce so expensive?”

“Because it’s worth it!”

Court is tomorrow in Martinez. I am exhausted. There is little to nothing I can do at this point. If I go in and contest the terms, I may not even be heard or the divorce may be postponed. Both of which, I don’t want.

It’s the dissolution. It’s just one part of the process. It will work itself out. I will fight for them in the ways that I can.

The judicial system is frightening. I’m amazed with the bullshit he’s able to get a hold of. He hasn’t let me see my children with him in nearly a year. I feel like such a small fish in a big pond. But I don’t have time for melancholy. There’s no crying over spilled milk. Steps forward, and no looking back.

These few days I have been so busy. Looking for work. Writing elsewhere. Tugging my heart on the ground and cutting myself off to focus.

The fire that was extinguished all those years ago has returned. I’m stronger. It can’t hurt me anymore. Tommorrow I will be free of the last bit of chains left.

The best thing that came of this experience were those babies. Those babies that I am committed to going full force and diving into this market to make the life for them better. One day at a time.

The path ahead is free and inviting… but god help me I’m scared/excited.

I didn’t finish everything on the list yesterday.. but damn I still got a lot done. Sleep, did make a cameo after all. Postponed after what 4 juicers, I was due.

Last night’s slumber felt amazing. It would have been even more so had I gotten the apartment cleaned like I would have liked. I just pushed over some things and made a corner of bed to lay down and sink into. I went to bed EARLY for me. I ignored im’s and my phone. I took time to just really relax.

Today I feel refreshed. I’m thinking about taking a swim, running the errands I didn’t finish yesterday, and possibly cleaning. It’s a day of spring cleaning.. a day of catch up. A day of putting the feet up finally.

I woke up to my roommate coming home. I was dreading it. So far it’s been fine though. She was so relieved to be home after her trip. She was mellow and cheerful. I suddenly felt bad about being such an asshole with things not being done around the house. We talked about her trip and things and smoked a couple of cigarrettes. Maybe things will be better. I really hope so.

Putting some cash into savings felt good. Now I just have to forget its there. Actually, scratch that, it doesn’t exist. All that I have is the few dollars in my wallet this moment, and they needn’t be spent on anything that is not detrimental to life functioning… some sacrifices must be made in order to have amass debauchery and goodness later.

I’m going to look for some things to change the template here a bit and revamp. If anyone knows of anywhere that has some good ones, please let me know. Eventually I want to redirect and get things setup for my own sites and all of that. I own the domains, I have ideas already.. I just need to get a few more ducks in a row to get them all up and running.

Routine is a welcome thing.. not working again today feels odd. My boss for job 1 said that she may need me later today, but isn’t sure. I hope that she does.

Time has become even more valuable. Everything is an investment. And my time is best used in those commodities.. weather they are journeys in the quest for knowledge, identity, art, love, lust, pleasure, sadism, masochism, frolic and fancy free, journalistic, documentary, etcetera.. they all serve the same purpose in the end. I want to maximize the output from the machine. I want more for myself than yesterday, everyday. The seasons are changing. It’s that time of year again. I am the final product. And its crunch time in overtime.